Kitchen Table at Grimmauld Place
by ReaderinthePNW
Summary: A series of scenes set around a piece of furniture that, like the proverbial post, sees and hears quite a lot, but says nothing at all. A/U
1. Chapter 1

Severus sat in the kitchen, nursing his tea with a pensive expression on his face. Molly eyed him curiously, as she scrubbed the long wooden table. He was so seldom at rest; it was a rare sight to see him so still. She hadn't ever gotten to know Severus. She had graduated from Hogwarts a few years before he started, and he was so silent and taciturn at Order Meetings. She rinsed out her rag in the sink, and sat down across from him, pouring herself a mug of tea from the large pot of Earl Grey that was on the hob.

She took a few moments to unobtrusively study him. His hair was pulled back, lank and lifeless, although not nearly as greasy as her sons solemnly averred. His skin was pale, and his teeth were stained from all the tea that he drank. His eyes were dark and guarded, when he glanced over at her, but they held no animosity or hostility. They were tired, with dark circles beneath them. All of him looked tired.

Molly summoned the tea pot to warm up both of their cups. She didn't want to worry the man with small talk. She was no one's fool, she knew that small talk was what Politeness demanded, but as her mother had told her, you used proper manners to make other people feel comfortable, not yourself. And if there were ever a man Nature crafted who didn't need polite chit chat to feel comfortable, it was Severus Snape.

Instead, she smiled at him when he nodded his thanks to her, and continued to sit quietly.

It was rare that the place was so quiet during the weekends, when everyone was usually home from work, but it seemed that everyone was out of the house, for the day. Most of the adults were having a rare lie-in, except for Remus, who had run out to the store for her. Ron and Harry were off playing Quidditch with some friends from work, and Ginny was picking up an extra shift at Fred and George's shop. Hermione might still be asleep, but she was probably in the library.

It was so wonderful to have everyone under one roof! Very companionable, jolly, with all of the children around, although the bickering was sometimes enough to drive her up the wall. Thank goodness most of the professors stayed at Hogwarts! She felt guilty for being glad that Severus had had to leave Hogwarts to stay at Grimmauld Place, since his position as a spy had been compromised. She knew that living here was difficult for him, but having someone around who could scare manners into those who needed them was quite convenient.

Molly was startled from her thoughts when Severus spoke quietly.

"I have worked so hard to be respected. All of my life, going to Hogwarts, joining the Death Eaters, joining the Order, through teaching. Everything has always boiled down to that, really. Respect. It is so elusive for me, when others manage to gain it without having to work at all, it seems."

It took a moment for Molly to react to what Severus had said. He sat staring down into his mug, his shoulders tensed, as if ready for a blow. She replied gently:

"I believe that you have the respect of all who _know_ you." She hurried on when he scoffed. "You are not the most amiable man, Severus, and that is who you are, and it is fine. You should not change your personality to suit people who don't care enough to appreciate you for who you are. And though there are those that doubt your loyalties (_Rot, Mad-Eye_, she groused internally), the rest of us in the Order are at least partially aware of your sacrifices, and we do respect you. Deeply."

He frowned, unconvinced.

"Even the children, when pressed to examine their feelings beyond their experiences in your classroom, admit that you are one of the bravest men that they know. Some of them do not need prompting… Hermione openly defends you as an honorable man to everyone at every opportunity," Molly teased gently, delighted, and slightly dumbfounded, by the light blush that appeared over his sharp cheekbones.

Severus began to reply sharply, but swallowed his hasty comment. Molly wasn't finished.

"If you would look beyond the ill considered words of people who don't matter to you in any case, you would see that there are many who respect you, and who would like to know you as well as you would ever let them. The respect of the masses is often unearned, and unappreciated even when you have it. Just look at Harry… isn't that the reason that you dislike him so? That he does have so much respect from everyone, was accorded it automatically, without having to do anything at all to have earned it? And he seems so unthankful for the favors that he is given because of it. He clings to Hermione and Ron because they love him in spite of his celebrity, not because of it. That is what you have, Severus. People who love and respect you for what you've done, for who you are."

Severus lifted a slightly shaking hand to pour both of them some more tea. He answered her quietly, "It seems that there are always people who are out to discredit me."

"Well of course, Severus. You are the most powerful wizard of your generation, regardless of your affiliation. It is the nature of power to draw criticism." Her soft smile took some sting out of the rebuke. She repeated her earlier comment: "Those who know you, certainly respect you, Severus. I would venture to say that most of them love you, as well. Do not discount that."

Hermione entered the kitchen as Molly finished speaking, yawning widely, and trying to push her sleep disheveled hair into a ponytail. She glanced blearily at the two adults sitting at the table, and checked the hob for tea. She pulled a mug from the cupboard, and sat down next to Severus. Molly noticed his expression as Hermione smiled sleepily at him in thanks for the tea that he poured her.

_There, Severus, _she thought to herself_. There is certainly someone who loves and respects you. Now you know it, too. _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N—So, these little vignettes aren't in any sort of order at all… actually, at this point they're going backwards, chronologically speaking, but I'm not doing it purposefully, they're just coming out that way. The first one takes place when Hermione is a fully grown, cognizant, aware, consenting adult—think 23 or 24. The second one takes place before that, sometime after the Trio has graduated, maybe around 18 or 19. This scene is taking place right after she's graduated. I'm thinking about going back and updating the chapters so that they're dated… do you think that's necessary, or am I being clear enough in my exposition? Dear Readers, please let me know what you think! I love reviews, and if you have any suggestions that you'd like to see, I'll do my best. Hope that you enjoy this. Cheers!

* * *

Hermione pounded her head on the table repeatedly, relishing the dramatic _thunk, thunk, thunk,_ even through she knew that she was being childish. It was so stupid! Of all of the mistakes that she had to make, it had to be the one that made her feel the most childish. Ahh… there was that word again. _Thunk, thunk, thunk_.

She stopped hitting her head onto the table, just resting her forehead on the smooth wooden plane. Everyone made mistakes. Everyone made mistakes in front of the people that they admired most, it was a corollary to Murphy's Law. One of the first ones. Maybe the very first one. She sighed heavily.

Well, whatever. It wasn't the end of the world. So she had blown up a cauldron… for the first time in her life… while making a simple restorative draught.

It was just that she had worked so hard to make Severus see her as someone other than a student. She wanted them to progress to an adult relationship, and the fact that she had spent all seven of her years at Hogwarts as a very high profile (read: hated) student made that very difficult. But she hadn't been Severus' student for months now.

Her internal voice, the one that sounded like a cross between Minerva, Molly, and her mother, joined the fray. _Look, it's not like he'll look at you for years anyways. You won't be able to convince him that you're grown up for ages… and let's face it, you won't be. Besides, look at how fast you threw up that shield charm. Not a drop made it through. That's pretty impressive._

Well… she was right. All she could do was wait to grow up, and trust that Severus would notice. The time for that wasn't now. Now how in the world was she going to explain to him that the reason she'd blown up a cauldron was because she'd been so busy listening to him dictate an ingredients list to a charmed bit of parchment that she'd added the sneezewort instead of the sassafras?

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

The door slammed, and Hermione looked up, unaware of the humorous picture that she presented, cheeks flushed in humiliation, a bright red mark on her forehead. Severus, who had been more curious about the nature of his quasi-apprentice's unprecedented accident than he was angry (it's not like he'd had to clean it up, after all), hid his laughter behind an incredibly well developed façade of disdain.

"Miss Granger. _What. Was. That?"_ He had no idea what that raised eyebrow was doing to her.

Hermione raised her eyes to his in her best butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth manner.

"Sir?"

"Miss Granger. Explain. Now."

_Come on, Hermione. Balls it out._ "I'm sorry, sir, I was distracted."

He waited, hands on his hips, head tilted slightly, and Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds.

"Miss Granger."

"I, er, added the sneezewort instead of the sassafras."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." Hermione, still red-faced, although the mark was finally fading from her forehead, stood and practically ran out of the room, her spine straight.

Severus sat down at the table where Hermione had been sitting. He let some of his amusement show on his face. He leaned forward, leaning on his elbows, considering.

Severus was bored. Life at Grimmauld Place was incredibly monotonous. And here was a simple little mystery that he could bend his considerable spy skills, which would rust if they weren't used, towards solving the straightforward question: what had distracted Hermione Granger to such an extent that the little perfectionist had melted a cauldron? And why wouldn't she talk about it? She couldn't run from him forever. For one thing, they had potions to brew on a daily basis. He could corner her then... metaphorically speaking.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione leaned against the cupboard, the wand in her white-knuckled fist shooting red sparks, her eyes shut tight, _willing_ her tears to dissipate. She hated that she cried when she was angry!

She beat on the cupboard door with her fist, stifling another sob. She noticed the sparks coming from her wand through her watery vision, and began to breathe deeply, slowly, trying to control her emotions. She did not want to be responsible for setting the kitchen on fire.

_That's right, girl. In—Out—In—Out. _She felt her heart stop racing quite so much, and she focused some more on the feeling of her lungs expanding, and then contracting, almost as if she were pumping a bellows, it felt so deliberate._ In—Out—In—Out._

The door to the kitchen slammed open, shattering Hermione's fragile control. This time, the sparks that shot from her wand made the calendar on the wall start smoldering. Severus, who had made the dramatic entrance (_per usual_, thought Hermione snidely), put the tiny flickering flames out with a contemptuous wave of his wand.

"Severus Snape, if you don't get your arse out of this kitchen right now, I'm going to chop it off and broil it, and serve it to you with an apple between its cheeks!" Hermione pointed her wand at him menacingly, but instead of being a sensible human being with a healthy regard for his posterior (quite out of character for the ex-spy… one can only assume he was out of practice), he stayed where he was… and then, even more foolishly, began speaking.

"What is the matter with you?" His voice was low and angry, and his dark eyes were snapping. "We were in the middle of a conversation! I did not give you leave to…"

"Didn't what?! Didn't give me permission? Well guess what? I'm not your house elf! I'm not your student! I'm not even your apprentice, or colleague, or friend! I'm just some 'woolly-headed idiot who thinks that reading the occasional journal article makes me some sort of expert,' remember?" Hermione began striding towards him, the sparks ominously disappearing, to be replaced by dark, wispy smoke. "I'm just the 'blow-in' who came to 'show off' and 'astound the natives with my tan, as my brain had obviously been lost at some point during my travels!'" She backed him up until he was practically sitting on the kitchen table. "You were the one who sent all those recommendations to America for me! You were the one who got Potions Master Martin fucking Chalfie to sit down and interview me, and take me for his apprentice! And you were the one who didn't send one fucking owl my way the entire fucking time I was gone!"

Hermione found, to her deep disgust, that she was crying again, and the sobs kept making her stutter as she yelled at him. She stomped her foot and screamed in frustration. Severus, who had slowly started to stand back up from his partially reclining position on the table, immediately stilled, his wand only half-way out of his sleeve. Apparently all of those long lost spy instincts were kicking in again.

Hermione pointed her wand at him again, holding it steady, and speaking in a low, dangerous voice: "Don't you dare speak to me. I hate you right now, I hate you." She stifled another sob, glaring at him through her teary eyes, before turning swiftly and leaving the kitchen at a dead run. Severus heard the slam of the front door, and the screaming of Mrs. Black's portrait.

He sat down at the table heavily, and softly laid his head on his arms. He didn't move for a very long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Severus watched Hermione sleeping at the kitchen table from the darkened doorway. Her head lay on her arms, hunched over so that her upper body rested on the table, next to an empty mug, and a plate devoid even of crumbs. These midnight snacks wouldn't be so bad if she could just remember to finish them upstairs. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep before shifting restlessly. _Her back must be killing her in that position._ He slid farther into the room, silent on the stone floors, and went to sit down on the bench next to her, slowly, so that the slight creaking would not wake her.

He threaded his hand through hers, so that they both lay on her rounded tummy, their twin gold rings shining in the faint light from the smoldering coals in the fireplace. His hand rested palm down against her bare skin, and he could feel the outline of a corner against the broad part of his palm, and against his wrist. Was it a knee? An elbow? Perhaps a foot? Severus tried to remember from the pregnancy books just how the baby would be positioned about now… the baby's feet towards Hermione's head, yes? Maybe that was a tiny little foot, resting against his palm.

He waited patiently, sitting beside his slumbering wife, waiting for a kick, perhaps, but it seemed that his offspring, also asleep, and was going to be as contrary as its parents… determined to disoblige, even in utero.

Severus felt Hermione's fingers stretch a bit, and he shifted his gaze from her abdomen up to her face. She smiled at him sleepily, bringing her other hand up to rub her eyes. Severus leaned towards her, and kissed her gently, happily.

His lips lingered over hers, dipping down to press more firmly before retreating to a slight brushing. Hermione brought her hand up to his head, wrapping her arm around his neck. She kissed him more enthusiastically, sliding her tongue past his lips, and nipping gently at his chin, presumably pleased with the way that she'd woken up. She leaned back to get a better look at him in the dim light.

"I love you." Her voice was very husky as she whispered to him. She said it again, stronger this time. "I love you."

Severus ran a finger down the curve of her cheek, before tangling his fingers in her tangled brown curls.

"I love you, too."

They smiled at each other, and Hermione stretched her fingers again, drawing their attention back to the hands that rested on their unborn baby.

"Severus, this has been fun," she looked up at him through her eyelashes, "but I am absolutely sick of being pregnant."

Severus, generally stoic in the face of all positive, and most negative emotions, found himself considerably softened by his wife when they were in private. He allowed himself a deep chuckle.

"I'm sorry, dear. Any day now, and you'll be dealing with an infant, instead."

"You mean _we'll_ be dealing with an infant. A far more equitable division of labor than this is!" She sniffed, and then peeked up at him with a drowsy smirk.

"Yes, Hermione, we will be caring for our infant." He leaned down to kiss his wife again very, very thoroughly, before standing her up, and taking her upstairs to their room.

A/N-- I got so caught up in writing this scene that I forgot it was supposed to have some reference to the kitchen table... oops! So here is the edited (and even better, I think) version.


	5. Chapter 5: Crack fic Drabble

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_**Warning**: this is ridiculous, fairly insulting, and definitely vulgar (and very short-- drabble quality, really). I think it definitely qualifies as Crack!fic… if you don't like it, please omit reviewing. I'm really hesitant about posting this, both because it's way out of line with what I've written for this series so far, and also because I've read some nasty flames out there, and don't want any directed at me. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, and I'd rather only hear from people who thought that it was funny. Seriously, I don't really even want ambivalence; I"m unconfidant enough about this chapter that I'd really like only positive reviews (although all other chapters are fair game-- I have more confidence in writing that isn't this crazy). I started writing this as something serious, but it turned silly, and I wanted to get it out of my system. I hope that you like it, as nutty as it is. _

_I think that I'll only add one or two more vignettes to this series... any ideas on what you'd like to see our two favorites get up to before I say goodbye (at least in this particular series)? Also, I deleted Chapter 1 awhile back, because I was unsatisfied with it... that was before I realized how restrictive the posting is on here in terms of editing. I'm going to be re-posting that again soon, too... although I haven't sorted out all of my issues with it. It just doesn't seem fair to leave the scene that started it all lying unloved and alone in my documents folder. _

_So just to recap, to sort out any possible confusion... this is a series of vignettes set around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, not necessarily related (although they could be). Enjoy!_

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Fred and George looked at each other with expressions of horror, but quickly returned to the private conversation that they were listening to on their Extendable Ear. They sat at the base of the stairs in a silent huddle, and with a few jerks and grimaces, made their disgust quite clear. Soon, George was gesturing to Fred for a bucket to puke into, but Fred found himself doing his utmost to not retch, himself.

* * *

Inside of the kitchen, Severus and Hermione sat next to each other at the kitchen table, sipping tea and nibbling on sandwiches. The conversation had recently moved from their variations on the Hiccoughing Draught to something far more interesting—their former lovers.

Hermione had spiritedly defended her choice of paramours. "You all just wrote Crabbe and Goyle off as idiots! Well, maybe they weren't the best at academics, but they had one thing down, and that was teamwork! Besides, you're one to talk! Molly Weasley!? It's a miracle you don't have any children wandering the hallways of Hogwarts, the way that she pops them out!"

Severus sniffed at her, and then glowered. "As if I wouldn't have taken care to make sure to give her an industrial strength dose of an anti-pregnancy potion. And besides, those two goons couldn't find their arses without a flashlight and a map… color me surprised if they could actually find your snitch."

"That's snatch, you imbecile. And if you think that finding it is difficult during sex, then it explains quite a lot about…"

"Don't be vulgar."

"I'll be as vulgar as I please!"

* * *

At the sound of breaking flatware, dripping tea, ripping cloth, and frantic moans and panting, Fred and George gave up the ghost, and ran hell bent for leather towards the nearest loo, fighting over who got the garbage can, and who had to use the toilet.


	6. Chapter 6: Formerly Chapter 1

_A/N—Alright, here's Chapter 1, re-tooled, and a little better—not much, there aren't a lot of differences. Still, it was all lonely in my Docs folder, it deserved better, so I brushed it off, made it a little more relevant, and here it is: Enjoy!_

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Hermione walked slowly down the hallway, shivering despite her slippers and the heavy dressing gown that covered her slip. She stepped carefully over the loose boards, not eager to wake any of her housemates. There was no reason to share her sleeplessness with anyone else, if she could help it. It was a time of war, and they all needed their sleep. Although if she kept getting dreams like that to wake up from, dreams of long, elegant hands doing exquisite, sinful things to her body, the lack of sleep would be worth it. When she reached the kitchen, she cast a silencing charm so that she wouldn't have to worry about banging the pots and pans as she put on a kettle for tea. As the water heated, she sat at the long wooden table, watching the banked fire in the hearth, and stared, letting her brain wander to that dream. Her face became flushed as she slowly sipped her tea.

The quiet thump on the kitchen door brought her to her feet, and Hermione swiftly drew her wand, knowing that all of Grimmauld Place's regular occupants were accounted for and sleeping. Her heart pounded… only two months ago, the Order's safe house in Hogsmeade had been discovered and invaded by Death Eaters. She shouldn't have put up that silencing charm, now she couldn't hear anything in the rest of the house. What if…

She breathed out a sigh of relief as she saw that it was the Potions Master standing in the doorway. "Severus, you scared me. I didn't expect you until tomorrow." She slowly moved up from her battle stance, energy from her sudden fright coursing through her.

His lips quirked in a faint smile, "I apologize, Hermione." He gazed appreciatively at her, enjoying her blush. "Moody would be proud."

"Yes, he would. Damned silencing spell I put up nearly gave me a heart attack, though." She grinned at him, and let her brain kick into high gear with the rest of her, sensing an opportunity that they had been seeking for ages… an uninterrupted chance to seduce each other. It was amazing (_read: incredibly frustrating_) at how high a premium privacy usually came.

"Oh, I don't know," murmured Severus. "It seems to be quite handy." He walked slowly across the kitchen towards her.

Hermione sat down, and unselfconsciously raised her robe, deliberately, provocatively sticking her wand back into the holster that she had strapped to her thigh. They had been dancing around each other for months, ever since she'd come home from the States, and she'd called him out for being an utter prat. Civil, intelligent conversations. Well placed sarcastic barbs. Brushing against each other when working on potions. Screaming matches about… well, nothing. Well, usually _something_. Long heated glances that a blind man would have understood, much less a pair of Legilimens. The air was so thick with chemistry between them that was a wonder no one had said anything. To their faces.

Severus kept the faint smile that played around on his thin lips. Hermione was anything but subtle, but she was a Gryffindor. A gloriously intelligent, fairly mature young woman who hadn't been a student of his in several years. Nope, not a student of any variety. So many wonderful character traits to admire. Although there was far more to admire than her character; the woman had legs that went on for miles. A dark bruise marred the loveliness right above her knee, and he paused her in the act of lowering her robe. His hand reached out to caress her. "What happened to your leg?"

Hermione glanced down, and then looked up beguilingly through her eyelashes. She shrugged, and her robe slipped off her shoulder, exposing the white slip that she chose to sleep in. "Must have happened in training this afternoon," she said. She tossed her curls over her shoulder, and stood, and the hand that had rested on her knee slid farther up her leg. "It's amazing, what adrenaline can do." Hermione felt arousal curling low in her belly. It seemed that Severus was finally, fully seeing her as something other than his former student… she would get down on her knees to… thank God every day for getting older. They'd been working on a painfully repressed, self conscious, going-nowhere foreplay for the last few years; now, in just the last six months, it had gotten painful, painfully close… she was so sick of waiting!

So, it seemed, was Severus. He caressed the soft skin, moving his hand farther up her side, over her hip, settling on the silk-covered curve of her waist. His eyes darkened, and he lowered his head so that his breath stirred on her lips. "What does adrenaline do for you, Hermione, hmmm?" His voice rumbled in his chest, and his other hand ghosted over the sash of her robe, seeking to pull it open. Severus backed Hermione up until she found herself half reclining on the long, wooden table that took up a good quarter of the kitchen.

Hermione's fingers began to toy with the buttons of his coat, and she slowly licked her lips, the tip of her tongue brushing against Severus' smile. "I think that you know quite well what it does to me, Severus Snape." She pressed her lips to his passionately before pulling away for a brief moment. "What you do to me."


	7. Chapter 7

Well, my lovelies, it's been a blast! This was the last bit that I had hanging around my notebook that could be developed beyond a drabble. I hope that you enjoyed reading these vignettes as much as I enjoyed writing them! For plenty of excellent fan-fiction that continues this and various other themes, please see my Favorite's List (which is quite extensive-I suggest organizing by Category for the sake of expediency).

I very much appreciate the ten to forty seconds that it takes for you to hit the review button! Thank you so much!

* * *

Molly watched with narrowed eyes as Harry and Ron sat at the table, huddled over their plate of chips, whispering conspiratorially. There was an occasional snicker or muffled guffaw, but it seemed that the tone of their conversation was generally serious. It was often punctuated by seriously unsubtle glances at Hermione, which made anyone paying attention to them realize their subject. The rest of the table was gathered at the far end, and was primarily preoccupied with the most recent Quidditch match between the Wimbourne Wasps and the Holyhead Harpies.

Molly looked suspiciously over at Severus, who had just let out a low, pained grunt. His face had a closed expression on it.

"Severus, are you alright?" At first she wasn't sure that he'd heard her over the noise of the dinner conversation. He barely glanced at her, and his face remained shuttered.

"I'm fine."

Molly saw him direct a fierce glance at Hermione, who was sitting next time him, looking down at her plate with a red face. Fred distracted her from the tableau when he started using the ketchup and mustard to illustrate a Quidditch play to Tonks—Molly wasn't usually too strict about Quidditch talk at the table, but charmed ketchup and mustard flying around the table was just asking for stains in the laundry.

As soon as Molly had gotten up to take charge of the brewing condimental disaster, Severus hissed a sharply at Hermione to cease, at once!

Her face finally began to loose some of its glow, and she smirked at him.

Molly turned around in time to see Ron and Harry start giggling (yes, giggling!) at each other, and attempting to keep their eyes on their plate, on each other, on the pots and pans—anywhere but at Hermione. A minimal, well-practiced twitch of her wand amplified their whispers into her ears.

"I told you she had a crush on him!" Harry whispered triumphantly! Molly glanced at the Severus and Hermione at the same moment that the troublesome pair beside her did. All three of them saw her look coyly up at the man through her long eyelashes.

Ron pretended to retch, silently.

"Pay up, Ron, five sickles for yours truly!" Harry was gleeful.

"Urgh, Harry, if there were ever a bet that I wished I'd win more than this one, I don't remember what it is!" Ron was digging through his pockets, and handed over two coins. "I'll get the rest to you after dinner, alright?"

Molly cancelled the spell with another subtle flick of her wand, and began to chivy the crowd away from the table. It was only after the kitchen was empty and the sink full of dishes that she let herself start thinking about what she'd seen. She might want to have words with Hermione—Severus Snape! What was she thinking? The man was worlds older than her, far more cynical and jaded, too experienced for such a sweet young thing! She continued worrying as she began to put the dinner things away in the pantry.

She jerked in surprise as she heard the kitchen door open, but stayed silent—mothering her brood had given her some excellent espionage skills of her own. She was glad for them when she heard Severus say so (uncharacteristically) cheerfully:

"Pay up, Hermione!"

She heard the girl huff, and dig through her pockets.

"Alright, so everyone's as thick as you say they are! This is getting ridiculous! How on earth could we go around being any more obvious?"

Severus' voice was silky as he pocketed the coins. "Oh, I'd say that some are beginning to catch on."

"Must we draw them diagrams? Leave a map up to the bedroom we've been sharing for the last two weeks? Harry can catch a snitch, but he can't spot me giving you a hand-job under the table?" Molly stifled a gasp at this. "Come on, let's go upstairs—do tell me you're going to do something fun with those galleons."

"Quite." Molly heard the smirk.

The kitchen door was opened, and Molly heard Hermione and Severus walking past the pantry. Hermione's steps continued out into the hallway, but Severus' paused. He opened the door, and grinned at her. Grinned. At her! He tossed her a galleon, which she instinctively caught.

"Buy yourself a firewhiskey, Molly. On me." His eyes gleamed with good humor, and he left her standing there, stupefied, behind the opened pantry door, as he followed Hermione upstairs.


End file.
